The Most Dangerous Game 17

The smile on the general’s face widened. “To date I have not lost,” hesaid. Then he added, hastily: “I don’t wish you to think me a braggart,Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort ofproblem. Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. Ieventually had to use the dogs.” “The dogs?” “This way, please. I’ll show you.” The general steered Rainsford to a window. The lights from the windowssent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on thecourtyard below, and Rainsford could see moving about there a dozen orso huge black shapes; as they turned toward him, their eyes glitteredgreenly. “A rather good lot, I think,” observed the general. “They are let out atseven every night. If anyone should try to get into my house–or out ofit–something extremely regrettable would occur to him.” He hummed asnatch of song from the /Folies Bergere/.  “And now,” said the general, “I want to show you my new collection ofheads. Will you come with me to the library?” “I hope,” said Rainsford, “that you will excuse me tonight, GeneralZaroff. I’m really not feeling well.” “Ah, indeed?” the general inquired solicitously. “Well, I suppose that’sonly natural, after your long swim. You need a good, restful night’ssleep. Tomorrow you’ll feel like a new man, I’ll wager. Then we’ll hunt,eh? I’ve one rather promising prospect–” Rainsford was hurrying fromthe room. “Sorry you can’t go with me tonight,” called the general. “I expectrather fair sport–a big, strong, black. He looks resourceful–Well,good night, Mr. Rainsford; I hope you have a good night’s rest.”